Running to My Death
by i.e.ann
Summary: There's a darker side to shinobi life. They say happiness is just around the corner, but...the world's round, isn't it? [AU, OC SI, no pairings]
1. prologue

**A different idea of mine that I've been working on for a while. As the summary says, it's a SI OC story. Though this is an original idea, and something, like I said, that I've been working on for quite a while, I recently discovered Silver Queen's** ** _Dreaming of Sunshine_** **and seeing her success, I finally worked up the courage to post this. Enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: OCs are mine. Plot is mine.** ** _Naruto_** **characters…are not. Kishimoto's not ready to relinquish them yet.**

 **Posted: 6/12/15**

 **Last Edited: 6/20/15**

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It trickled down my cheek, warm and thick and wet. Sticky. I panted, my limbs trembling with adrenaline and my thoughts trembling with them. My hands were covered with the same substance on my face, and I wiped them on my pants almost subconsciously, trying to cleanse them of my sin.

The only sounds in the silence of the dark alley were my own harsh gasps for breath and a chorus of groans or moans or wails of dying men accompanying my solo.

There were three of them, and their heartbeats were slowing because of me.

I numbly tucked my grandmother's paintbrush into my backpack. It was a wonder I hadn't snapped it within my tight grip. I bent down next to one of the men, his crazed eyes almost scaring me away as I felt for his pulse on his neck before realizing the gash there prevented me from doing so. His breath caught—and never returned. I gripped his wrist, finding not a single pulse of life underneath my thumb, and quickly dropped the hairy, lifeless arm. Fearfully, I checked the two others in much the same fashion, and understood them all to be dead. Gone.

I didn't dare look back. Panic clenching my throat tight, I strode out of the alley on silent footsteps, scurrying through the shadows and desperately trying to escape the deed I'd done.

I'd killed them because they'd gone after me. They'd taken me and a couple others in the dark of the night, and none of us had been able to scream with rough hands slapped over our mouths. We'd all been girls, and I understood it to be attempted rape in the back of my mind, where all-consuming panic had not taken control yet.

But then they'd ripped my backpack off my shoulders and found my grandmother's paintbrush. Fiery fury zipped through my chest as they admired the slim wooden brush in their large, grubby hands. I bit the hand holding me back as hard as I could, and felt surprise as copper touched my tongue.

The man had yelped, dropping me, and I'd pumped my legs and charged at him, leaping into the air for a kick at his face. He'd released the girl he was holding, and she ran immediately while I snatched the paintbrush from his looser grip before dropping to the ground for my backpack he'd unwillingly relinquished as well. My training in the Academy and at home, drilled into me until reactions became instinctive, took over—I allowed it.

At that point, both of them ganged up on me, but with my backpack in my hands, I dug my hand into it, the other still clinging onto the paintbrush, and slashed backwards as deep as I could with the first kunai my fingers brushed against. One of them had let out a roar, and the other, gripping my upper body, had punched me in the back of the head. I'd almost blacked out, and I probably could have if adrenaline hadn't been running its course and forcefully telling me _stay alive, stay alive, stay alive_. My arm jerked backwards again as I flipped the kunai in my hand into a reverse grip and met resistance as well as a spatter of something wet and warm.

I was free—but the other girl wasn't. She'd looked at me desperately, stringy blonde hair tangled into the third man's hand. Still shaking with adrenaline, I rushed at him, and he let her go—but I wasn't done yet. I released my weapon at the man's neck and missed, gouging his shoulder. He fell to his knees in pain, grabbing me at the same time and likely leaving bruises, but this only gave me an advantage as I fiercely yanked the kunai out before stabbing at his neck again, slicing through skin, muscle, tendon. Vital blood vessels. The girl escaped, and I wriggled myself free, letting him slump to the ground as I dashed to my backpack. Victory—I felt pride flood my body as well as relief in response to having won.

And then I'd realized what I'd done.

The pride turned sickly.

As the adrenaline died down, I slipped into another alley and fell to my knees, gasping. A cold trickle of liquid slid down my face and, startled, I realized I was crying. I curled my fingers against the dirty concrete, hands still tangled with the ripped straps of my backpack, and stared with a morbid fascination at the bloodstains on my hands—they were already drying.

The mental images of the bodies, sprawled on the alley floor, caused another tremor to run through my body, and I dry-heaved, feeling horror rush through me. This was murder.

I'd just murdered three men.

I bent my head down and wiped my mouth of the strands of saliva dripping down my chin. My head hurt. My arms shook. My eyesight blurred. I was at the end of the proverbial rope as I sobbed into my stringy sleeve. It was frayed and ripped beyond recognition of its original design, even though I'd only gotten it three weeks ago. Stolen, that is.

My head spinning, I crawled further into the dark alleyway. My limbs shook and I tumbled hard into the concrete, smacking my cheek into the rough, cold concrete and barely registering the accompanying sting of pain flaring up on my cheek. I couldn't make it any further. I was on the verge of giving up. And though giving up meant dying, I wanted to die.

So I gave up.

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 **It's a quick intro to everything that comes later on. Please leave a review, and have a great day!**

 **~poeticness-at-its-finest**


	2. one

**Umm, so I changed my username. It used to be poeticness-at-its-finest. Then I decided Wobble Knife was good, and it's not like I have that many people reading this so I hope no one minds…**

 **Enjoy this next chapter.**

 **Posted: 6/17/15**

 **Last Edited: 6/20/15**

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A dull ache throbbed behind my eyes. I squeezed them tightly together, feeling hunger and thirst desperately making themselves known as my thoughts, with a painstaking lethargy, sharpened in coherency.

"She's waking up," a whisper sounded somewhere to my left, and I snapped open my eyes. I was not alone.

A blonde girl crouched by my side, owl brown eyes carefully observing me. I noted she held no wariness toward me, despite what I'd done last night. Sitting up with a wince as bruises and scrapes made themselves known, I pushed aside ragged blankets beneath me and on top of me, supposedly to provide a semblance of warmth. I glanced around as I slowly scooted out of the makeshift bed and recognized it was daytime. Faded red brick buildings rose up on either side of us, marred with graffiti, and blocked my view of the sun. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what time it was, then.

"Here," the girl said, bringing my attention back to her as a redhead also made her way into my field of vision. "Eat this."

She thrust a piece of bread toward me, and I eyed it, feeling my stomach rumble and squeeze and my mouth salivate in response.

"Who are you?" I asked instead, my voice coming out in a rasp, and she handed me a pan, balancing it carefully as she tipped it toward my face.

"What—"

"Just drink it," the redhead said brusquely, crouching down beside me and holding me still. My throat was burning from thirst, so I didn't make much of a struggle when the blonde tilted the pan of water into my mouth. When it first touched my tongue, it felt like heaven. I gulped it down greedily after that. Whether it was contaminated or not, well, I would find out sooner or later. Right now, I couldn't care less.

Once the last couple drops of ( _cool, refreshing, head-clearing_ ) water slid down my throat, I glanced between them, waiting for them to answer my question. The blonde handed me the bread again, and I accepted it, mumbling a "thanks" as I just barely remembered my manners.

"I'm Gunma Hisae," she finally introduced herself as I swallowed the bread, trying to chew but feeling too hungry to waste my time. Of course, it ended up stuck in my throat, and I grimaced, waiting for the chunk to slide down.

Hisae seemed to recognize my problem and frowned, finding another pan of water.

"This is the last bit of water we have left," she said reluctantly, and carefully handed it to me. When the redhead started protesting, Hisae shushed her and let me drink it. The selfish brat I was, I took it and drank it all, feeling satisfied when the lump of food slid down my throat.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked.

"You don't remember us?" the redhead said with a roll of her eyes. "You, er, saved us. Last night."

I'd saved them? I looked down at the grungy ground, recalling the events of last night and the hopelessness I'd felt. A residue of it still lingered, but now that I'd had water, food, and most important, time to calm down, I wasn't as desperate as before to give up my fight for life.

"Last night," I murmured, feeling a shudder run through me. "You do know I killed them?"

Her gray eyes flashed. The redhead said stiffly, "It was either them or us. Hisae says you saved her even after you had the chance to escape. We decided we had to pay you back, somehow. You're only a kid, anyway."

"I'm nine," I said, affronted. The two before me didn't look all that much older, though you couldn't really tell with homeless children since hollowed cheeks and thin structures made all of us appear smaller than we were supposed to be.

"And I'm eleven," the redhead said smugly. "Hisae's even twelve. I'm Ika, by the way."

I didn't say anything in response, and Ika demanded, "Hey, aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

I shrugged, slowly and awkwardly scooting away from them as the stringy pieces of blanket tumbled off my body. As they stared at me, I located my backpack and clumsily pulled it over my shoulders before standing on wobbly knees.

"Thanks, but, um, I've gotta go."

"Hey! We just helped you!" Ika said, looking angry. "You drank our water and ate our food. The least you could do is introduce yourself."

I decided it couldn't hurt. "I'm Shiroko."

"We should stick together," Hisae said, speaking up again as she reached a hand out toward me. "Shiroko-chan, stay with us. We can help each other. It's hard being by yourself, isn't it? We can take care of each other, since you know how to fight and we can get the food and water."

Wariness slithered back inside me. I stood, backing farther away. "Um. I can get food and water too. I've been by myself for the past two years. I've been fine."

"She doesn't want to," Ika muttered to Hisae. "We don't have to make her stay with us, you know."

"But she saved us, and we should help her," Hisae whispered back. It seemed she was an inherently good person, despite the fact that most people took without giving back, especially in desperate times.

"It's okay," I said, cutting off their conversation. "I'm, um, going back home. To Konoha. I don't want to be on the run anymore."

I hadn't talked this much in such a long time that I found communication like this odd. And I felt a little frightened, too, because I wasn't sure what the results of this conversation were going to be and I had never really spoken all that much as a young child, anyway.

"Really," Ika said slowly, gray eyes scrutinizing me. "Isn't that super far away?"

I shrugged again. Who knew how far I'd traveled in the past two years?

She took a step toward me, and I, alarmed, took a step back.

Ika noticed my behavior. She stopped and demanded, "Why are you so jumpy? You look like we're going to attack you or something."

I _did_ think it was possible they could start attacking me. I remembered a technique called _henge_ , in which shinobi transformed into other objects or other people with a couple hand seals, and it was possible "Ika" and "Hisae" could actually be other people.

At the mention of an attack, however, I suddenly thought of my grandmother's paintbrush. Still keeping an eye on the redhead, I swung my backpack to the front and quickly dug through its contents before my hand found the thin wood piece and stroked it in relief.

Ika gave me a strange look before sighing. "You're probably a nutcase. Just leave then, already."

I still said nothing to this. I'd never been a confrontational person, rather meek, actually, and I didn't know how to say I'd been a little offended by what she'd said. Instead, I stared at her for a while longer before backing away again. And when it didn't look like they were going to give chase, I spun on the ball of my foot and scampered away, out of the alleyway and into the streets. Important-looking adults loomed above me, walking this way and that with purpose in their steps. Well, I had a new purpose, too.

For the past two years, I'd traveled as far and as often as I could, hoping every day I would somehow encounter my mother or my sister, whether through the newspapers or in person.

But now…I was done. I couldn't take this life anymore—I had a good one back in Konoha, where I could go to the Academy, and train, and become a shinobi. Make real friends. This search, I decided with finality and bitter wistfulness, was over.

I was moving on.

o0o0o0o

It took another year for me to finally reach Konoha. It had taken me two years prior to reach the point where I had, simply because I was younger with a smaller, weaker body. (And, I had to admit, far more scared about traveling on my own than I was now.)

I turned ten somewhere in there, somewhere in the cold of November, and survived after experiencing a couple fevers here and there—things I was able to survive by temporarily sneaking into orphanages, where they believed me to be another new orphan that had to be taken care of. The sick didn't have to adhere to the strict schedule, either, so I could recuperate inside a warm building with warm, if bland, food before moving on again.

It had happened plenty over the years, but I'd grown accustomed to it. I'd figured out what I could or couldn't do, and how to live independently from the age of seven. Basic survival skills from long ago, during my time in the Shinobi Academy, helped immensely.

The gates of Konoha loomed over me as I approached it in the darkening evening, sure my bedraggled appearance was drawing curious looks from civilians going to and from Konoha.

"Hello," I carefully greeted a shinobi stationed at the gate, having prepared a small speech beforehand, muttering it to myself as I walked to practice my voice and drawing odd looks as a result. Embarrassing, but even more embarrassing if I arrived at the gates only to stare at the guards with a deer-in-the-headlights look. "I'm Uchiha Shiroko. I've decided to return to Konoha and become a shinobi. I don't know how it works, but please don't send me to the orphanage; I can still stay in the Uchiha district."

He had a bandage across the bridge of his nose as he bent down eye-level to me, concern in his brown eyes. "You're Uchiha Shiroko, you say?"

The other guard's eyes sharpened, and the shinobi in front of me frowned. "Hm. If you could wait here for a moment while I contact the Hokage."

I watched him exchange a look with the other gate guard before he nodded and disappeared. _Disappeared_. I'd known shinobi could do that, but I'd never actually _seen_ it until now. Slightly awed, I blinked at the dust settling where he'd been, and the other guard, observing me, gently guided me to the side.

"Only precaution," he smiled at me with a flop of brown hair covering half his face. "Sorry about this."

I nodded timidly. I was tired. He studied me with fathomless brown eyes, and I glanced down at the ground in nervousness before the other shinobi appeared again.

"I'll take you to the Hokage's office," he decided, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Will you get nauseous if we travel by _shunshin_?"

I automatically shook my head, keeping silent.

"Alright. Izumo, you're fine with watching the gate for a while?"

His partner waved him on, and he gripped my shoulder tightly before, in a whirl of wind and dust around us, we appeared in front of the Hokage tower. I almost stumbled, but he caught me and gently guided me forward.

I stared around me at both the familiar and the unfamiliar sights of Konoha before we entered the building, curious eyes on us. We went up several flights of stairs before we finally reached the Hokage's office, and by then I felt more than a little dizzy. I was trembling with exhaustion. Still, I forced myself to keep going just as I had many times before—I was almost there.

The shinobi knocked on the Hokage's door, and after a pause there came a "Come in," before the man pushed open the door.

"Hokage-sama," he bowed, and I did the same, straightening and feeling myself sway as the blood in my head rushed down again due to gravity. The Hokage, noticing this, gestured for us to sit. We both did.

"This is the girl who claims to be Uchiha Shiroko," the shinobi said. Fear fluttered in my chest. He didn't believe me?

"Ah," the Hokage mused. "Thank you, Kotetsu-san. I will take care of her from this point on. You may leave."

"Yes, Hokage-sama," he said, bowing again before leaving out the door. It shut with a click behind him, and I felt several pairs of eyes on me even though I could only see the Hokage sitting at his desk in front of me. I glanced around the room and still found nothing.

It was silent as the Hokage scrutinized me. "Uchiha Shiroko."

I looked up at him, waiting silently for whatever he was about to say next. He made a quick hand gesture, and an intimidating woman appeared beside him out of thin air—or at least it appeared so. Maybe I should have been expecting it, but after being among civilians for so long, I jerked in surprise, anyway. A glistening mask with red painted lines delineating the features of an animal covered her facial features, and plated arm and shin guards protected her limbs. She wore what I recognized as the standard ANBU outfit. They exchanged a couple words before the Sandaime nodded and she disappeared again. Was it still _shunshin_ if it didn't cause any wind?

A deep sigh jerked me out of my musing. "Alright. We'll take you to the hospital to confirm your identity and also make sure you're well enough, health-wise."

I quickly stood, understanding he wanted us to go now. "Um, okay."

No—that wasn't polite. The gate guard…Kotetsu-san, or whatever it was, had said something else, and I repeated it. "I mean, yes, Hokage-sama."

At this, he gave me a slight smile. "No need to be so polite. Come with me."

While I wasn't sure why the Hokage himself was accompanying one single orphan to the hospital, I trotted after him. To my surprise, he held out a hand to me, and I took it after a confused second. We headed down the stairs (and were there still those eyes following me? I looked around wildly and still found nothing), and took a short walk before reaching the hospital as he gave me polite inquiries as to my whereabouts the past three years.

"I—I was looking for my mom and my sister," I answered nervously. Would there be a punishment for what I'd done?

The Sandaime eyed me before giving me another gentle look. "I see. Where will you live now?"

I bit my lip. "In the Uchiha district?"

He hummed. "If you would like."

I had the feeling he was about to say more before he decided against it and we arrived at the hospital in another couple of moments. Inside, the Sandaime's presence immediately demanded attention and the process was quick after my blood was drawn. I was left dithering in the waiting room with a nurse who'd given me some crackers to eat, and the Sandaime apologized, stating he had other business to attend to, before leaving.

The nurse was busy with other work, however, and I was soon left alone again. I leaned my head back in the hard plastic chair, and closed my eyes.

o0o0o0o

I woke when I felt myself gently swaying. Opening my eyes, I blinked up at the visage of a gleaming porcelain ANBU mask, and the mask briefly tilted down.

"Your identity was confirmed at the hospital," a feminine voice informed me. "I'm taking you to the Uchiha district. Uchiha Sasuke is expecting your arrival."

Nodding minutely, I watched my surroundings fly past before we sailed downward with a stomach-lurching landing. The ANBU set me down. It was dark outside, but a boy walked closer to the Uchiha gates, and I immediately recognized him to be Uchiha Sasuke, my adoptive brother.

He looked different—older, obviously, but a lot taller than me too. He shoved his hands into his white shorts, bunching up the bottom of his vibrant blue Uchiha shirt and said, "Uchiha Shiroko?"

I looked around for the ANBU, but she had already disappeared. I nodded quickly, then, all the while musing about how he'd put such emphasis on my name. Specifically, my clan name. We were now of the same clan. I blinked when I realized how similar we looked, coloring-wise: pale skin, black hair, and dark eyes, accentuated with aristocratic facial features—at least for him. For me, in grungy, dirty clothing, all I felt was civilian, and shame squirmed uncomfortably inside of me. My father had always valued appearances, had always placed his and his children's statuses as high-class because we were of the _Uchiha_ clan, and right now I was anything but. I was one of those scruffy orphans he'd always despised.

Seeing Sasuke, though, drew up something odd inside me. I wasn't sure what it was—it was fear, maybe, or something more like apprehension, mixed with regret, and overlaying everything, guilt. I couldn't be _guilty_ over leaving Konoha, leaving Sasuke alone, but I _was_.

"Are you coming?" he asked. I shook myself mentally and meekly nodded, following him into the house he chose to live in. It wasn't the one we'd originally resided in.

As we stepped inside, he asked, "Do you need to eat?"

I nodded, embarrassed—and then wondered why I felt that way. As if it was my fault I was hungry, I thought with resentment, and instead I blamed Sasuke for making me feel that way.

He began preparing a sandwich, but I offered to do it and he let me, watching me all the while with eyes like a hawk. I felt uncomfortable with his eyes on me, but felt even more uncomfortable with The Eyes watching from outside the window. I didn't know how I knew they were there—I couldn't see them, that was for sure. Sasuke, meanwhile, was seated across from me, staring as I gobbled up my small sandwich. I'd looked up at him a couple times, but he hadn't averted his gaze and instead I felt like I was the one doing something wrong as I returned to my sandwich.

"Um, I'll wash the dishes," I offered, noticing the dirty plates still sitting in the sink. He must have just finished his dinner. Exhausted as I was, I wasn't about to completely disregard my manners—Sasuke didn't necessarily have to provide for me while I settled in, and I had to pull my weight somehow.

He shook his head, spiky black hair swaying. "No. You don't know how to wash them properly."

The 11-year-old roughly pulled the single plate out of my hands, and I backed off quietly. After he placed it in the sink, he informed me he would first show me my room before washing the dishes, and I picked up my backpack before following him down the darkened hall.

"This one's yours; bathroom is across the hall," he said, pointing at two separate doors before gesturing at the one next to mine. "And that's my room. Don't go into it."

"Right. Um, thank you."

I'd said that plenty at the start and finish of the meal, but I felt the need to thank him again—no one had done anything for me for a very long time. And while his help was out of nothing but…maybe it was duty, or kindness, I wasn't sure, he didn't owe me anything. It was a wonder he'd offered food and prepared a room for me as well in the short time he'd been notified of my arrival, especially after what I'd done to him three years ago.

He ignored my gratitude and quietly strode away again, leaving me to my own devices. I slid open the door and padded inside, marveling at how polished the floor felt below my hole-filled socks. The setup was Spartan, simple. There was a folded blanket at the foot of my bed, and the furniture was clearly recently-dusted. The sheets and the pillows looked clean, and the room was filled with the scent of the summer air, indicating the window had been open earlier to air out any staleness.

I finally set my belongings into a desk drawer, making sure my grandmother's paintbrush was secure in its spot. Though it had been years, I still cherished the last thing I had of my wonderful, loving grandmother before her life and others had been taken by a single, horrible man.

My perusal of my room complete, I wandered over to the bathroom. At the sink counter, which I found was at mid-chest level, I found a toothbrush, and toothpaste, and a simple clear cup. There were a couple combs in the drawers, as well as strands of dark hair caught in the teeth. A towel hung on the rack, and another fluffy bath towel was folded neatly on the counter.

So we were sharing a bathroom…? I frowned, looking out the bathroom door and hearing the sound of running water dying down. I would let Sasuke take a shower first, then. He'd already done a lot, and I didn't want to burden him with a long waiting time.

Blinking sleepily, I opened my door and rested against the wall, pulling up my knees to my chest. Even seated on this hard wooden floor, I felt far more comfortable than I'd felt in three years. I could barely remember what a bed felt like, but I didn't want to lie on it and end up smearing a bunch of dirt and other questionable substances onto the pristine covers and sheets.

My eyelids were two-ton weights increasing in weight by the minute, and I closed my eyes. I could rest, merely for the moment. Once I heard Sasuke turn off the shower—he'd already entered the bathroom; I'd heard the footsteps and the door sliding closed—I would get up.

For now, I would just rest a little bit.

* * *

 **Please review. Constructive criticism appreciated. Thanks.**

 **~Wobble Knife**


	3. two

**Posted: 6/24/15**

 **Last Edited: 6/24/15**

* * *

Warmth made my head buzz with a laziness I hadn't expected. I reached up with a hand, and I was startled to feel something heavy suppressing my movement—it seemed to be covering my entire body, like a blanket.

I blinked open my eyes, rubbing away the crust, and wondered how I'd gotten into bed (it actually was a blanket). Hadn't I been sitting beside the door? Wasn't I waiting for Sasuke?

My vision focused on my hands and I grimaced at seeing my dirt-smudged fingers touching the pure white cloth, sunshine filtering through the blinds and further lighting up the streaks I smeared. Carefully, I extricated myself from the bed, attempting to climb out without further dirtying up the spread, and slipped on a pair of inside shoes—they were neatly set beside my bed—to visit the bathroom.

Sasuke was in the kitchen. I wasn't sure how I knew, until I heard some dishes clinking and confirmed that fact with myself.

But how had I known beforehand?

Shaking my head, I entered the bathroom to first clean up. I could think about that later. As always, my body was on automatic in the morning, and I clumsily stepped into the shower and turned the water on, getting lost in my thoughts as I waited for the water to heat up.

Had Sasuke brought me to bed? Had he _carried_ me? The thought was embarrassing. I pulled on a tangle of hair, the sharp pain tugging at my scalp, and realized I'd have to cut off this mess of hair. It was undernourished, sickly, and the best way for it to grow properly would be to cut off the thin tangled strands and let it regrow. Kaa-san had always said cutting hair made it grow faster.

Stomach growling, I took the time to scrub off the dirt on my skin that had accumulated over the couple weeks I'd gone without a shower. Occasionally, I visited an orphanage to take a shower or get a change of clothes for free, but it was sometimes difficult to escape. I didn't do that often—and therefore I didn't take showers often. And while yes, that sounded horrifying (and it _was_ , believe me) I had priorities. As a homeless orphan constantly on the move, food and water and safe places for sleeping were generally the only things I could focus on.

But, well. Now, I could take showers whenever I wanted. A tinge of satisfaction crept into my chest. Now, I had a home. Now, I didn't have to worry about food or shelter or clothing. I had a better purpose to my life other than chasing after—

I cut off my thought process before I could be hit with a pang of hurt. _The bathroom tiles are pretty, the shampoo smells good, the water is warm,_ I chanted to myself.

If I could distract myself, I wouldn't cry.

When I stepped out of the tub, I grabbed the white bath towel still lying on the counter and wrapped it around myself, wondering what I was going to wear. I hadn't thought about that beforehand, and I certainly didn't want to put my old clothing back on. It was grimy and thin, and I groaned inwardly once I realized I'd have to ask Sasuke for help. I was already in his debt.

"Um, Sasuke?" I called out the door, and then realized I'd spoken too softly. I wasn't used to communication just yet, and I despised how my voice sounded almost alien to myself.

"Sasuke?" I repeated loudly, and cringed at how my voice cracked and screeched at odd places—I hadn't raised my voice in years, and the mechanism of my voice didn't function as well as I would have liked.

"What?"

"Um, are there any clothes I can wear?"

The moment the words left my mouth, I berated myself for being so rude. I hadn't even said "good morning," but it was too late now.

 _You're so stupid, Shiroko._

 _Shut up._

"Yes," he returned. "I got some old clothing that'll probably fit you from the other houses. It's in the kitchen."

From the other houses? _Dead_ peoples' clothing? Why had it never been removed? Well, that was the least of my concerns right now, anyway.

"Ah…," I started.

"What?"

"I'm—not dressed," I replied awkwardly. "I just took a shower."

He didn't reply, but I heard footsteps soon after. Sasuke approached with a box in his arms, and set it outside of the bathroom door where I peeked through with my towel around my shoulders and my hand clutching it together in front.

"Thanks."

"Hn."

He left again, and only when the sounds in the kitchen restarted did I open the door and drag in the box. I pilfered through them, finding some shinobi as well as civilian clothing, and finally pulled out a pair of long black pants and a short sleeve black t-shirt. The shirt had a large uchiwa on the back, proudly declaring my heritage.

"Guess I'm completely Uchiha, now," I murmured to myself.

 _Fine_ , I thought with resentment. _If you don't want me, then I don't want you, either, Kaa-san._

I dressed quickly. I didn't like to see my own naked body reflected back to me in the mirror.

But with my clothes on, I couldn't help but stare at the uchiwa on my shirt as I craned my neck to look at my reflection behind me. It was splashed on without hesitation, a bright red-and-white thing plastered on a black background. Sure, I'd always known I'd been part of the Uchiha clan. But it had never been that big of a _deal_ until After—after the massacre. After, everyone stared and whispered and I knew they all wondered how we'd escaped the wrath of Uchiha Itachi, the genius and the murderer.

Sasuke, I didn't quite understand. He'd never explained it, really, and all I'd heard the nurses say was that he'd been found unconscious among all the rest of the dead. As for me, my sister, and my mother, well. Luck was all it took. It had been my father's fault he hadn't come with us to visit _his_ father. My paternal grandfather lived with the Nara clan because he was a Nara, and he and my grandmother had not been on good terms. Even as a kid, I'd seen that. It was apparent my father hadn't been on good terms with him, either, but he hadn't forbade us from visiting my grandfather, and out of sheer luck we'd escaped death by visiting him that one night. We'd returned in a hurry after seeing how late it was and how upset my father would likely be—

Only, he was dead. All of them were. There had been ANBU who'd kept us from entering the district, and I hadn't found out about their deaths until the morning after, after we'd returned to spend the night with our grandfather. I remembered my mother crying.

Shaking my head, I stopped staring at my reflection. (That is, my shirt, to be specific.) The past was the past. It wouldn't do me any good to dwell on it, nor did I want to.

Digging through the drawers, I gave up after being unable to find a pair of scissors and instead slipped on my shoes again and stepped into the kitchen, the bamboo slippers loud against the wooden floor. They were new, and I liked my new possessions.

I smiled uncertainly at Sasuke.

"Thanks," I repeated. "For the clothes."

"Hn."

He set a plate of eggs at the table, and motioned for me to sit there. I sat, digging ravenously into them. The eggs were gone before I could process that realization, and I stopped with a dry throat. Sasuke seemed to realize the problem I had, and he handed me a cup, pointing to the drinking fountain beside the sink. I murmured thanks again as I stood to fill it, and sipped a little, immediately feeling bloated.

"Do you want me to wash the plates?" I offered again, but he shook his head and commenced with washing them as I stood there. I wandered around the kitchen, deciding to first fix up my hair, and eventually I located a pair of scissors (along with a pile of recently-washed knives) lying haphazardly on the counter. Kind of dangerous, but then, we were shinobi-in-training.

"Can I use these?"

Sasuke glanced at me, and then returned to washing the dishes. I took that as agreement and bunched up my hair before shearing off the knots, tossing the cut hair into the trash.

I glanced at Sasuke and saw him watching me in apparent alarm. Diverting my eyes, I moved to cut another tangled bunch off—

"Stop."

I moved the scissors away from my hair in surprise. Didn't he just let me use them? What had I done wrong?

"What?"

"I said stop," he growled. "Don't do that."

"…Why?"

"Let me. You're ruining it."

I wrinkled my eyebrows. As if he knew anything about cutting hair?

"Um, okay," I said reluctantly.

"I can see it," he said by way of an explanation. "You can't."

I nodded and waited as he finished up the dishes, glancing at the clock. He muttered under his breath.

"The Academy…starts at eight-thirty, right?" I asked tentatively in the quiet between us. It was eight.

"I have plenty of time."

I nodded again.

"Go to the bathroom," he commanded. "I'll cut your hair into the tub, and you can pick it up after. I don't want it all over the floor."

Neat freak. I obediently did so, taking the scissors with me, and he arrived a moment later, roughly turning me around. Sasuke was taller than me, and he easily pushed me forward in the tub to avoid letting a single strand of hair touch the ground outside of the bathtub.

"Don't move."

The cold blade swished behind my neck, and a shudder ran through me.

"Don't move," he repeated, and I forced myself to stay still. Sasuke continued methodically cutting through the still-damp chunks, and eventually a pile of hair lay at my feet, clumped together from both tangles and water.

"Thanks," I murmured.

"I'm leaving," he announced. "Don't go near my room, or any of the other rooms. You can go outside, buy some food, or make your own from the stuff in the fridge."

The scissors clattered on the counter, and I turned around only to see him silently step around my box of clothes still sitting in the bathroom and leave out the door.

I'd seen the calendar in the kitchen and it was Thursday—at one point, an ANBU had told me I would start the Academy the following Monday. Well, I had a couple days to recuperate and adjust to these foreign-but-not surroundings before I had to face the people of my past again.

o0o0o0o

Sometime around mid-morning, when I was taking a walk around the Uchiha grounds out of boredom, the Sandaime found me and arrived with a middle-aged woman, a bland smile on her face.

"Shiroko-san," he greeted, giving me a grandfatherly smile. "Good morning."

I bowed. "Good morning, Hokage-sama."

"I hope you're settling in well?"

I nodded silently, glancing at the middle-aged woman out of the corner of my eye. She was watching me with sugary sympathy.

"Well, I don't quite trust an 11-year-old boy to properly take care of you, Shiroko-san," the Sandaime said with a laugh, "so I called on Hitomi-san, here, to take care of you until you have graduated the Academy."

I glanced up at her again, and she gave me a wider, but just-as-bland smile.

"Um, Hokage-sama," I began, hearing my voice waver in uncertainty. I grimaced inwardly, and forced my voice to strengthen. "Hokage-sama, I am fine. Thank you, but I don't need a caretaker."

He studied me with his wizened face, and said softly, "Why do you feel that way?"

"I have taken care of myself for three years, Hokage-sama," I said with a slight bow. "I will be fine."

This was the most adamant I could be. I was always told to respect my superiors, and I always would. But her name was Hitomi. My mother's name was Hiromi.

"Like Sasuke, hm? He, like you, refused to have a caretaker. Do you think he is fine, lonely and unhappy like he is?"

 _That_ was harsh. But it was a test, too, wasn't it? I opened my mouth and hesitated.

"He's nice," I defended at length. "We…now there's two of us. We won't be lonely."

The Sandaime sighed. "If you say so, Shiroko."

There was a pause, and then he smiled genially at me. "Do you have any questions you would like to ask either me or Hitomi-san?"

I quickly shook my head. "I'm fine, Hokage-sama. Thank you."

He nodded and departed with the caretaker with a firm pat on my shoulder. I let out a breath. I felt an unexpected nervousness, an uncertainty around the Sandaime. He was kind, but I could sense the steel underneath that made him who he was—a man who sent his shinobi to death.

o0o0o0o

When Sasuke returned home, I hesitantly approached him and asked if I could practice with some of his kunai and shuriken. He scowled and left the room, but I waited, starting to understand his attitude. If my guess was right, he was retrieving the weapons.

Sure enough, he returned with a brand new set of kunai and shuriken and thrust the packs into my arms.

"Keep them," he said gruffly, and directed me to the personal training grounds beside his house. There were several targets placed at various heights, and I wrapped the packs of kunai and shuriken around my waist before taking the weapons out, noticing Sasuke hadn't left yet.

To stall, I checked the weight of the weapons, finding their weights heavy and unfamiliar. The weapons I'd used had been lighter—older weapons, probably improperly-weighted weapons that I'd become accustomed to. Using these would be difficult, but it was obvious I would have to re-accustom myself to using proper weapons at some point.

Still feeling a little (read: very) nervous with both Sasuke and The Eyes around, I awkwardly held the weapon in my hands and threw it at the closest target. It bounced off. I tried a couple more kunai before moving to shuriken, and wondered if I was holding them improperly or something because they'd all bounced off or just barely lodged themselves into the large target. At least I was aiming properly, but what did it matter if I could only pelt enemies with kunai handle-first? I might as well just gather a bag of rocks to throw.

Steeling myself, I began turning to ask Sasuke for help, but he strode up without asking and took the kunai I had in my hand. It left his hand with a whistle through the air and landed solidly into the center of the target.

"Don't release it too late or too early," he instructed. "That makes it miss. And don't curve your wrist. Let it fly on the path it's supposed to go on."

I knew the last part. I'd been nervous so I hadn't done what he'd first advised me to do, either, but I nodded and followed his instructions, forcing myself to concentrate solely on throwing the weapon. I imagined that night, a year ago, and felt the surge of both fear and desperation to aim it right.

The kunai landed solidly into the center of the target, and I glanced at Sasuke, letting a small smile break out onto my face.

"Thanks."

He said nothing, but went with me to retrieve my weapons on or around the target. I continue practicing, and occasionally Sasuke butted in to offer more advice, albeit in a gruff tone. I was overwhelmingly grateful for his help, though, and my weapon-throwing slowly improved as I became accustomed to the weight of the weapons as well as the weapons themselves. Sasuke didn't appear to be quite as annoyed with me as when we first started.

I smiled and felt a small sense of peace back in Konoha.

o0o0o0o

The next morning, I announced to Sasuke that ANBU were observing us—and had been since the day I'd arrived. I'd figured The Eyes were ANBU, there to keep a watch on me and, maybe, Sasuke, too. Sasuke's eyes widened in a rare display of surprise.

"You can sense them?"

I shrugged. "I just know when people are watching me."

He appeared contemplative before seeming to file the information away for further investigation, because he suddenly changed topic.

"You're enrolled in the Academy."

I nodded in agreement.

"Which year?"

"Fifth," I replied reluctantly. It was my proper grade level, even though I'd been in the honors program—a euphemism for my-parents-cajoled-and-or-threatened-the-school-into-letting-me-graduate-early—before.

"Hn."

He sounded…triumphant. I was sure he remembered that I'd been in his class despite my younger age, and he was feeling a little better that I wouldn't be in the same class as him. How spiteful. (Though I knew, inwardly, that I would be the same if our positions were switched.)

"You have to get ready," he said, dark eyes intent on my face. I nodded again, and once we finished breakfast, we commenced with my training. He left soon after for the Academy, but I continued after he was gone, running laps through the serene training ground the Uchiha clan kept and interspersing the vigorous exercise with aim practice.

Every second, I told myself, _Just one more lap_ , or _Just one more round_. I didn't want to see disappointment scrawled in Sasuke's face at my failure to improve, even though I'd barely known him for more than a day. He was older than me, and therefore my senior, and therefore someone I felt the need to respect—or, better put, someone I wanted to impress and stay in their good graces.

Of course, in only an hour or so I gave up and returned to the house, shaking with fatigue and sweating like a pig. It was hot this time of year, hot and humid and…and an impractical time to train. Yeah. That was it.

I took a long bath before fixing myself an early lunch with the bit of stuff in the fridge. I was careful to take only a small portion, given that my stomach wasn't yet accustomed to digesting this food after years of wild rabbit and occasionally stolen snacks, and then I suddenly found myself waking from the slam of a door. Disoriented, I glanced around, finding myself in my room. Afternoon sunlight streamed in through the window, hitting the floor and the desk and casting a soft golden glow around the room. As I pushed away the blanket, I slipped out of bed, and I straightened my clothing and fluffed out my haywire hair before walking out of my room with soft footsteps.

Sasuke came around the corner, looking sweaty but still quite alert. His only acknowledgment of my presence was a flicker of his eyes in my direction before he brushed past and entered the bathroom, where the door slammed closed and the shower turned on just a moment later. I didn't think much of his greeting, or rather, his lack of one, and instead headed to the kitchen to prepare a snack for him.

In those early memories of mine, I remembered my paternal grandmother always preparing a snack for me at home after school. I felt that since Sasuke had done plenty for me, I needed to repay him somehow. An inkling of a memory, with a younger Sasuke sitting at the table and primly eating a plate of tomatoes, came into my mind, and I decided to do just that.

The plate of sliced tomatoes was set on the dinner table before I headed back to my room to pick up my new set of kunai and shuriken. They were dulled for training purposes, thankfully.

Sasuke emerged out of the bathroom door at that point, scrubbing his hair with a towel, and I said, "I left a plate of tomatoes on the table."

He blinked, and I entered my room to pick up my weapons. When I exited, Sasuke was still standing there.

"What?"

"What?" I asked, bemused.

He shook his head, a slight crinkle in his brow, before heading down the hallway towards the kitchen. I followed him, about to head toward the front door, but he caught my arm and I almost stumbled as I was dragged into the kitchen once again.

"Eat with me," he ordered, seating himself at the table and picking up a slice of tomato for himself.

"But I don't like tomatoes," I complained, and he glared.

"That's too bad."

Confused, and slightly cowed by the intensity of his glare, I picked up a slice and ate it slowly, the sourness of the fruit, or vegetable, or whatever it was, making me grimace. The plate was soon finished, and he dumped the plate into the sink as I wiped the table.

"Let's train."

Once again, I found myself quietly following Sasuke out the door towards the training ground. Annoyed now, I sped forward, matching my stride with Sasuke's, and I saw him glance at me out of the corner of his eye before he picked up his pace. I tried matching it again, and we both broke into a run. Before long, we were sprinting, and I finally slowed down at the sight of the targets, huffing and gasping for breath. Sasuke didn't seem quite as winded, but he waited for me to catch my breath before we began again, a barely-there smirk on his face as he loitered around.

When he said "let's train," in reality, he apparently meant I was to train and he was to boss me around—er, supervise my training. The weekend was spent similarly, though indoors instead, where he had me review his old textbooks and cram as much information as I could into my brain. I reviewed to the point that I was sure I knew everything a fifth-year had to know—after the year was over. Breaks were given for meals, of course, but also for shopping, and I was finally able to buy new clothing, footwear, and hairbands for the future.

Monday arrived all too soon, and I found myself nervously following Sasuke to the front office. I received confirmation that I was supposed to attend Natsuki-sensei's class, and the front desk receptionist handed me a slip of paper with the room number as well as a note for Natsuki-sensei on it. I thanked her before Sasuke walked me to my class, and I waved to him as he left for his own class.

Natsuki-sensei smiled brightly as the door shut behind me. "Sasuke walk you to class?"

I nodded mutely. She grinned. "How sweet."

I wasn't sure if she understood, so I hurried to explain. "He's my brother."

She blinked large violet eyes. "Oh—you must be Uchiha Shiroko."

As an answer, I handed her the slip of paper I'd been clutching between my fingers, and she glanced over it before crumpling it and tossing it into the trash.

"Alright, Shiroko," she said, standing and moving to a bookshelf on the side of the room. "Here are your textbooks."

I was handed five slim textbooks that I stuffed into my backpack, glancing over the spines. History; Mathematics; Basic Shinobi Weapons and Usage; Human Anatomy and Target Points; and Intermediate Chakra Usage.

"So," she began, "usually, we will have two hours in the morning to either study history or math, and that is followed by an hour of physical training. Lunch is another hour. After lunch, we study weapons and shinobi tools and tactics for an hour before applying that in another one and a half hours of physical training. That's followed with half an hour of downtime, when I'll sometimes give quizzes or let you guys talk, or if the day dragged out a bit, time for me to round all of you back up inside the classroom. Sometimes the schedule will change depending on what us teachers think the class as a whole needs more working on, but usually we'll stick to that."

She gave me a wide grin. "Got it?"

I merely nodded, and it was to my relief that at that moment several others entered the classroom. She was a little intimidating, though I knew she didn't mean to be. I'd seen the ANBU tattoo on her shoulder. Maybe recently retired. I seated myself in the back of the classroom, remembering something Iruka-sensei had said long ago about keeping the wall to our backs.

With nothing better to do, I pulled out my textbooks and glanced through it. With a bit of chagrin, I realized a lot of it was what I already knew—I'd been told by my father similar history was taught year after year, taking into account that young students didn't retain straight up facts and information that easily. But I remembered it. As for math, I knew the majority as well—my parents had put me under intensive learning at home years ago, and I was good at remembering something once I got it done, though the process of understanding something took longer than my parents liked. Weapons were simple; all the book had was on identifying several different types of weapons, and as long as we could use kunai and shuriken, that was fine. Human anatomy was harder, but like math, my parents had forced me to study it at home. They'd wanted me to be a field medic. And even the chakra usage textbook wasn't foreign language to me. That…

Well, okay. Sasuke's forced reviewing had helped.

The day slogged by in the beginning. Then it was physical training, where students were matched in spars, and I was, thankfully, exempt from that after Natsuki-sensei gave me a critical once-over and decided I wasn't quite up to full-strength yet. Likely, she knew of the condition I'd returned to Konoha in; maybe all the older shinobi did. Still, I was made to run laps. At the end of the day, when all my classmates began chattering amongst each other, I carefully approached Natsuki-sensei, who looked up long before I reached her desk.

"Yes, Shiroko?"

"Um." I cleared my throat. "I…used to be in the, er, honors program. I was wondering if I could be back in it."

She studied me. "And you're up for it? There will be a test on your knowledge as well as physical abilities."

I cringed inwardly. A test on physical abilities? That…well, that couldn't be helped. I hadn't fared as well as I wanted to in the afternoon training on speed in weapons-throwing and speed in building traps in the nearby forest.

"Could I take it in two weeks?"

She hummed. "The school year just started two weeks ago. Two weeks later we'll be a month in, and the mid-term is five weeks after that. Do you think you can catch up with the sixth years in time for their mid-term?"

Uncertain now, I glanced down. "Sasuke could help me. But…if I take the test now, I could just be put on probation if I don't pass the physical test, right?"

Her eyes twinkled. "Yep. And I'm sure you can catch up to them by the semester's end, since mid-terms don't count toward putting you on probationary period or not. They're only an analysis of your skills, though teachers will recommend for those students who fare especially poorly on the mid-term to come in after school for either tutoring or training."

I exhaled. She was testing me. I was grateful that she was giving me all the extra information, too, as if rewarding me for my ability to question the things she said to instill doubt in me.

"Thank you, Natsuki-sensei. So when can I take the test?"

She pursed her lips. "Tomorrow, if you'd like. I'll have to have someone else testing you, but you can do it on school grounds. Just come to class like you did today and someone will be waiting for you."

"Okay. Thank you, Natsuki-sensei," I said again, and she gave me a grin.

"Good luck."

I smiled and returned to my seat. She dismissed class immediately after, however, and I slung my backpack over my shoulders before scampering out to meet Sasuke. He was already waiting outside my classroom, and we walked home together in silence.

* * *

 **Filler chapter. I know. I'd like if you guys could go on to the next chapter (if it's not there, just wait a couple minutes, because I'm uploading two and three at the same time) and read the chapter as well as the A/N's before deciding things about my story. Thanks.**

 **Of course, if you'd like to leave (constructive and/or nice) comments on this chapter, feel free to do so.**

 **~Wobble Knife**


	4. three

**So for those of you wondering why the heck I said in my ending A/N this chapter was being posted a couple minutes after the previous one, it's because I deleted this and made a couple event modifications.**

 **For those of you wondering why this chapter looks familiar, see above explanation. I recommend reading through it again, or at least towards the ending, since I added a bigger (and most definitely changed) chunk.**

 **Also, reminder: please read through the entire chapter and my ending A/N before making final judgments. Thanks.**

 **Posted: 6/30/15**

 **Last Edited: 6/30/15**

* * *

The clock ticked loudly at the front of the classroom as I frantically colored graphite circles in my answer sheet. Mediocrity had never been encouraged in my household, so I'd wasted precious time in the beginning trying to find exactly the right answer for every single question I came upon. Of course, now I had fifteen questions left to do in merely ten minutes, and though it was only a piece of paper, my eyes scanned the questions and the answer choices as if it was a life-or-death situation.

"Five minutes."

I jumped in my seat, and then berated my own foolishness. I'd almost forgotten about the silent proctor seated at the front desk of the empty classroom. So I'd answered them faster than I thought—I had only three questions left. Those were completed with ease, and I glanced through my test in the last minute, too quick to really catch any mistakes I might have made. Must have made.

With a sigh, I handed in the test booklet. Mathematics was done. He exchanged it for a history booklet, and when I seated myself again, he restarted the timer. Tick, tick, tick…

o0o0o0o

The morning was over by the time I finished with the written portion. I pulled out lunch—Sasuke packed it—and ate it outside under the shade of the tree, where others were talking or fighting or playing Ninja. I wished I could join.

The moment I finished lunch, however, the proctor from before immediately approached me from wherever he'd been waiting. So he'd been watching me. Attempting to think logically, I'd attributed my increased unease to the single ANBU who watched me, as usual, but I was wrong to assume that the ANBU was only staring with more intensity than before.

 _"Listen to logic—instincts are driven by emotions, and emotions color things in ways you don't understand until it's too late."_

Tou-san was wrong. But he was dead, too, so maybe that was obvious.

I followed the proctor to an empty Academy training ground, and he had me first throw kunai and shuriken into a target. He specified that he would not tell me, much less give any indication what was the minimum requirement for me to pass.

"Um…can I practice first?"

"In real life, you're not going to be able to 'practice' when an enemy comes," he said firmly.

I swallowed and reflexively threw my weapons. One kunai on the bull's eye. Two kunai just barely clinging onto the middle ring. The shuriken landed on the log, neatly spaced out and directly in line with each other like Sasuke had instructed, and he nodded. We moved on to other exercises, and I performed kata, dodged objects, ran through a couple obstacle courses, sprinted in a straight line, tested my ability to change direction, all subtly enhanced with chakra. While these were all things I'd learned and trained for in the past, it was Sasuke who had been refining everything over the past couple of days, and over the hours of work accumulated, my mind and body had finally connected some of the things I'd been struggling with.

Still, I didn't too well. I was sure of it. My body was weak, weaker than I liked, and the proctor dismissed me with a wave of his hand. It was the end of the day, and I entered my classroom to find Sasuke waiting for me, hands tucked coolly into his white pockets. My backpack was in his hand, and Natsuki-sensei was nowhere to be seen, so I took it gratefully and pulled it over my shoulders, fluffing out my short, wavy hair with a grunt. Sweat dripped off of me like condensation off a can of cooled soda.

"How was it?"

I glanced tentatively over at Sasuke. He appeared nonchalant. I didn't want that superior glint back in his eye, however, so I kept silent and gave an ambiguous "It was okay."

We walked home in silence.

The next day, I headed straight for the front office, and Sasuke didn't bother giving me a farewell this time. The "bye" I said came out oddly, belatedly, just as he was turning the corner, and I felt my face flush before I turned away and headed toward the receptionist. She looked up with a smile, and I exhaled.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Uchiha Shiroko. I…recently took a test to move up a grade?"

And while I didn't like how it came out like a question, it was the best I could do with the anxiety that always took ahold of me in situations with authority figures.

"Ah, yes," she said, turning in her chair to reach for a sheet of paper behind her. On closer examination, it was a schedule with my name on it. "You're back in Iruka-sensei's class. Unfortunately, you're on probation. We also took the liberty of signing you up for after-school kunoichi classes, since you used to be in them, and as you can see on your schedule, those will be on Mondays and Tuesdays. Because you are on probation, there are mandatory tutoring sessions you will attend after school on Thursdays and Fridays, and if you pass your Semester Exam with a certain grade or higher, to be determined by Iruka-sensei, you can be taken off of it."

She eyed me. "Any questions?"

"No," I said, flustered. After a beat, I amended, "Er, actually. I do have questions. Um. Are the after-school kunoichi classes required?"

She hummed. "Not for graduation, necessarily. But it is highly recommended you take them. And while this is generally something I would speak to parents about, as an orphan you must take full responsibility of yourself. Attending these classes will greatly help your career as a kunoichi in the future, if you pass the Graduation Exam, but if you would prefer not to take extra classes, it is understandable if not recommended. What is your decision?"

"Uh…," I said nervously, "I'll take them. Are there other classes for other…specialization?"

The secretary smiled, then. "Yes, but those classes will be taken as a genin. There are kenjutsu, poison, espionage, medical, and other classes available that you can take as a genin if you wish to specialize, although often it is according to your jounin-sensei's recommendations."

"Okay," I nodded. "Thank you."

"You know how to find Iruka-sensei's class?"

I nodded again. "Yeah."

"Then good luck!"

"Thank you."

I turned away and left down the hallway, locating the room from memory. The last time I'd entered that classroom had been when I was seven years old. I wondered if my classmates would remember me. Nervously, I remembered the uchiwa on my back boldly declaring my heritage, and exhaled before knocking and entering.

All eyes landed on me. I shuffled closer to Iruka-sensei, staring at the scar across his nose before I bowed hesitantly and showed him my new schedule.

"Ah," he nodded. "Right. How about you introduce yourself?"

I turned toward the class. There were around 20 people, maybe less, and they stared at me in silence. I found Sasuke sitting off by the side, gazing out the window and completely ignoring my presence, although at least he was one person less to be staring at me. There was another with his head lying on his arms, and I recognized him as Nara…Nara something.

I swallowed. "Hi. I'm Uchiha Shiroko."

They stared at me for a bit longer, and then a boy with red triangles on his cheeks and a white puppy lying on his head raised his hand. Those were characteristics of the Inuzuka clan, weren't they?

"Iruka-sensei, I thought there was only one Uchiha left," he said, shooting a not-so-discreet look at Sasuke. At this, Sasuke's hand left the chin it had been propping up and he turned to shoot a dark look at the Inuzuka, which the boy ignored.

"I told you to wait for me to call on you before you speak, Kiba," the man barked, gesturing and smiling quickly at me for me to sit. I clambered up the stairs, keeping a sharp eye out for feet darting into the middle of the row to test my reflexes, but fortunately there were none, and I scrambled into a seat by a girl with pale lavender eyes.

"Okay, okay," Kiba grumbled, "but can't you answer my question already?"

"Show some respect," Iruka-sensei snapped, but he sighed. "She used to be in our class, and she was a survivor of the Uchiha clan. Now please, if you really want to know more, ask her herself about it, or ask Sasuke. I'm not guaranteeing you an answer."

Kiba subsided with the puppy whining on his head. "Quiet down, Akamaru," he said, taking him off his head and putting him in his jacket. I grimaced at the sight before turning to look at my desk partner.

She fidgeted, and I felt calmer at seeing someone more nervous than I.

"Hi," I said, and she echoed me with a greeting.

"I'm Hinata," she said, "if y-you don't remember."

So apparently she remembered _me_.

"Hyuuga Hinata?" I asked, and she nodded timidly. Iruka-sensei called our attention back to the front of the classroom after that, however, and I didn't exchange anymore pleasantries with my shy classmate until lunch came, after some exercises. It seemed that most classes followed the general schedule that Natsuki-sensei had told me when I'd first met her, although with varying lengths of each block.

I took out Sasuke's prepared bento for me out of my blue backpack—my favorite color; Sasuke remembered that and got me blue _everything_ —and hesitated. Yesterday, I'd seen Sasuke sitting alone and occasionally flocked by fan girls that he walked away from if he became too irritated. I'd seen a couple other loners as well, but now, I noticed specifically a Hyuuga Hinata sitting by herself under the shade of a tree.

I wavered. I wanted some friends, at least one friend, but I'd rarely ever spoken to anyone in the past three years. Even with the small bit of conversation I had with Sasuke, I was exhausted…and also excited. I _liked_ human interaction, and I'd desperately craved it in the past, even before I'd left Konoha.

I stood and approached Hinata.

She looked up with wide pale eyes, and I offered her a small, tentative smile. "Hi. Could I sit here with you?"

The indigo-haired girl nodded quickly, and I sat down against the trunk with our shoulders brushing. We ate in silence for a minute as I searched for a topic, and I finally commented on her eating habits as she picked at her umeboshi-filled onigiri.

"Do you not like your food? It looks pretty good to me."

"W-what?"

I concluded that I didn't like her short blue hair as a couple strands floated up in the wind—not that I had a right to say anything about it considering my own recently-shortened black hair.

"Your food looks really good," I said. "Who makes it?"

"Oh!" She blushed. "I-I make my own."

That was actually surprising. I was fairly certain that as a girl of the Main House, she had servants from the Branch House to make her food. I knew she didn't have a mother to make her lunch, since my mother was her mother's older sister (therefore keeping me well-educated on the Hyuuga clan's structure as well as internal affairs) (and sadly, like my aunt's death), and also therefore making us cousins, but Branch House members were required to assist Main House members in any way possible.

"Wow," I said. "I can't cook anything. Sasuke makes my lunch."

"S-Sasuke?" Her eyes widened.

"He…he's my adoptive brother, or something like that," I said. Everyone knew I was an Uchiha, but no one knew what our real relation was. There were whispers, from children and adults alike, whenever Sasuke and I walked together in the marketplace or through school or _wherever_ in Konoha, really, and I hadn't missed them when I'd left Konoha. Back then, the whispers were accompanied with sympathetic glances, and while the majority of it was for Sasuke, they also knew my family had lost a father as well. I'd hated them. I still hated them.

"O-oh," she said. She said nothing else, and I waited a moment longer before relief settled.

"So," I began, "what do you like to do besides cooking?"

"U-um…"

I didn't comment on her stutter, despite the fact that it was beginning to irritate me. Lunch ended shortly after mild conversation between us, constantly interspersed with quiet, and we entered the classroom together with Sasuke's sharp eyes on us.

I noticed a blue-haired man standing in the front of the classroom with Iruka-sensei, and vaguely remembered him from before, too. He and Iruka-sensei were discussing something, and I watched as Iruka-sensei gestured at me and the other man nodded. We took our seats before Iruka-sensei informed us "Mizuki-sensei" had had something going on in the morning. Mizuki-sensei glanced in my direction, and now that he caught my eyes, he gave me a warm smile.

We began class with a study of chakra. It still seemed mostly to be review, but after several more tips, he called us to the front of the classroom.

Dog—boar—ram—" _Henge_ ," Mizuki-sensei said in a clear voice, and he transformed into Iruka-sensei. He even possessed Iruka-sensei's sheepish gestures as he rubbed the back of his head and laughed before dispelling the jutsu.

We lined up in random order. I chose to situate myself in the middle so that I wouldn't be memorable either way, and I watched as various classmates attempted it and had varying degrees of success. Some people didn't have the back of Mizuki-sensei right. It was still the back of themselves. Others were missing an ear or eyebrow or other detail they'd missed, and I managed a complete image of Mizuki-sensei for about one second before my concentration wavered and it dispelled.

Sasuke neatly pulled off an Iruka-sensei, and several of the girls erupted in exaggerated cooing and applauding. First of all, it was original. Most of us had been copying Mizuki-sensei's image. Second of all, it showed off his great eidetic memory, even if all of us had (or at least supposedly had) this ability, since it was important for mission reports to identify each opponent encountered.

Well. He always looked as if he hated the attention, but it didn't look like he avoided it, either.

Hinata was right after him, and considering the Hyuuga clan had good chakra control (something my mother had informed me about), her _henge_ into Mizuki-sensei was flawless. She held it for a good ten seconds, and probably could have held it much, much longer, as Mizuki-sensei scrutinized his own image before nodding and congratulating her. There was vague applause, and she flushed and scurried to her desk, seating herself back beside me.

After everyone had attempted it, Mizuki-sensei worked with a couple people on fixing hand seals, and when he came to me, I showed him my hand seals and he frowned.

"For the ram seal, you want to cross your thumbs, like this," he explained. He bent and showed me, flipping his hands over, and I observed his right thumb latched over his left before I nodded as Hinata glanced over.

"The textbooks don't show it, but it helps you concentrate better instead of just placing your thumbs side by side," Mizuki-sensei elaborated, and I nodded again, thanking him. I felt Sasuke's eyes on me, but when I glanced in his direction, he was seated quietly at his desk, waiting for the final bell to ring. As Mizuki-sensei went through each student, Hinata gave me a hesitant look.

"Sh-Shiroko-san," she said.

"Shiroko's fine," I reassured her.

"O-oh, okay, uh, Shiroko, I-I know Mizuki-sensei i-is the teacher, but…," she paused carefully. "M-my father has n-never done that. H-he taught me all the hand s-seals, and he has v-very good chakra control."

It was common knowledge that performing the seals with precision contributed to better chakra control. Though hand seals were only methods to help ourselves concentrate on the technique we were performing, and therefore weren't _necessarily_ required, seals performed precisely let us concentrate less on what technique we were doing and more on directing the technique itself.

"Oh," I said, blinking. "Uh, we can ask Sasuke, I guess."

I stood and waited, and she stood after a moment as the two of us approached Sasuke. As expected, a couple girls were flocking him again, congratulating him about his perfect _henge_ , and I wondered why no one was a lesbian to congratulate Hinata on her just-as-flawless _henge_. She obviously needed the confidence more than Sasuke.

"Excuse me," I muttered, edging past a couple of them. "Excuse me."

To my dismay, I realized Hinata had hung back, but I finally found my way to the front of Sasuke's desk. Because the classroom was leveled somewhat like a stadium, I found myself peering much higher than I usually did at his brooding face.

"Sasuke," I said.

He eyed me. "Hn."

"Um—" I glanced quickly at where Mizuki-sensei was. He was clear across the classroom. "So, Hinata said that…we shouldn't cross our thumbs while performing the ram seal. Is that true?"

He gave me a blank look. "Hn."

I blinked and glanced at the girls giving me irritated looks, seeming not to have found our conversation at all enlightening.

"Okay," I nodded quickly, "thanks."

I squirmed my way out of the crowd and back to Hinata, and reported to her what I'd discovered. She nodded knowingly, and five minutes before class was dismissed, Iruka-sensei finally returned.

And so it was that my first day back at the Academy passed uneventfully.

Or so I thought.

I entered my kunoichi class late, since I'd walked halfway back home with Sasuke before he'd asked to see my schedule, and I'd darted back to school with only a hasty "Shoot!" in response. Perhaps he'd said that on purpose to remind me of my after-school commitments, although then it would certainly be cruel to only mention it when we were halfway home.

I burst into the classroom after checking the room number on my schedule, and a curly-haired woman turned to me with a severe look on her face. She looked familiar, but I couldn't quite remember her name, so all I could stammer out was a, "I'm sorry, uh, Sensei! I forgot that…"

I trailed off as her severe look turned more severe. Her small glossed lips tightened to the point they were almost nonexistent, and with the light reflecting off her glasses like that, I literally couldn't meet her eyes.

"Uchiha Shiroko," she thundered, "you will not be late next time. Now. Get out your kimono and hurry. I want to see if you remember what we learned last week about how to properly wear a kimono and tie an obi."

Girls around the classroom were in various states of dress, and I quickly closed the windowless door. Curtains were drawn as well across the windows, transforming the classroom into a temporary changing room with the desks pushed to the sides and plenty of room for girls to scatter in the middle.

"Um, Sensei, I wasn't here last week."

"I know," she positively snarled, and I blinked. "Just wait on the side. If someone happens to have an extra kimono, see if they'll lend it to you."

I sullenly slinked away and scooted to the side of the room. A pink-haired girl I recognized from Iruka-sensei's class stood near me, neatly folding her own clothes away as she retrieved her kimono from her backpack, and she gave me a quick once-over before pulling on her kimono over her slim, toned body.

Well, all the girls were doing that, actually. I was doing it myself. It was an automatic gesture we did to see how competition was going. Clearly, my scrawny, shorter stature didn't help here, and a couple girls snickered at my plight when I glanced around the room and found…no one familiar. Not as if I knew anyone except Hinata, but it was expected that the Hyuuga clan head's daughter would not be attending such a lowly class—she was supposed to have more than enough ability that she didn't _need_ to blend in and assassinate her target if that was her mission directive.

I sighed and turned toward the pink-haired girl. "Hey," I said. "Do you, uh, have an extra kimono I can borrow?"

She quickly shook her head. I nodded and mumbled something along the lines of "thanks, sorry," and scoped out the room again. There was a blonde I recognized from my class, although I couldn't quite remember her name either, and she was chatting animatedly with another girl as they dressed. Her blue kimono matched her light blue eyes, and the pattern of birds sweeping across the bottom was etched in white.

I gathered my nerves again and approached the pretty blonde girl. "Hi. Do you have an extra kimono I can borrow?"

To my relief, she grinned at me and without reserve reached into her backpack before tossing me a kimono in pink, piling a black obi on top of the mass of silk in my arms.

"Thanks," I smiled at her, and she tossed me another grin.

"I'm Yamanaka Ino," she said, expertly tying her white obi around her midsection. "You're Shiroko, right?"

Relief settled over me. "Yeah."

I fiddled with my clothing and then pulled it off awkwardly, stuffing it into my backpack as it left me only in my undergarments.

"Hey, grasshopper," a girl jeered, "how are you going to wear that kimono? It'll fall right off your little stick body."

I flushed and mustered a glare at her before looking away and ignoring any other taunts that came from her and her friends.

"And how are _you_ going to wear _your_ kimono? The obi's not even going to tie around _your_ supple waist."

"Supple" put it kindly. Quite frankly, she was fat. The girl's mouth fell open before she burst into tears, and _that_ drew the teacher's attention. Meanwhile, I gave Ino a similar look of shock that had been on Supple-Waist's face before she'd cried, and Ino rolled her pretty blue eyes.

"She deserved it," she declared. "And besides, I think you're pretty. Way prettier than her, you know. You should grow out your hair and then even _I'll_ be jealous of your looks."

"Oh," I blinked. "Thanks, I guess. Uh…"

I floundered frantically. "Your kimono looks good on you."

What a stupid compliment. But she gave me a sweet smile and thanked me anyway, and then I smiled back and she offered to help tie my obi as Sensei gave a sharp warning to Ino before returning to the front of the room. I knew how to tie it—all girls in the traditional clans learned formality and manners as soon as they could walk and talk—but I gratefully handed her the obi to wrap tightly around my waist. I'd always found that part the hardest.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked curiously.

She gave me a conspiratorial snicker. "You see that girl, Sakura? With the pink hair? She's always trying to beat me. And she usually gets second place, but she brags about that a lot in Iruka-sensei's class, because Suzume-sensei always shows off the two girls in the top two places."

Oh, right. Suzume-sensei. That was her name.

Smugly, Ino said, "I'm almost always first place. But anyway, I can't let her think she's super good at all this since _I_ was the one who taught her confidence and everything in the first place, so _you_ just have to get second place, Shiroko."

I rolled the words around my mouth, afraid this would break whatever fragile friendship was forming between us, before I said them anyway. "And what if _I_ get first place?"

Ino smirked. "Well, better you than her. But don't worry about that—if that happens, then you'll just have to make sure you let me get first place next time, right?"

Whatever came out of her mouth always surprised me—but they were nice surprises. In the back of my mind, I wondered if she was befriending me for her own purposes, too, other than out of the kindness of her soul, but then I realized wasn't that what we all did?—and it really didn't matter. She seemed to be a girl with higher social standing than I, anyway, and if she chose to be my friend, well, I wouldn't complain.

"There," she declared. "Perfect."

I offered to check her obi, and she turned around, letting me make small adjustments until all the creases were smoothed into perfection and all the sections of her obi were at the exactly correct length I remembered my mother instructing me they should be. She resumed conversation with a girl she called Miyako, and while I occasionally joined the conversation, I had very little experience with what they were discussing. Nail polish had never been a concern of mine.

A couple minutes later, Suzume-sensei called us to attention. Unsurprisingly, Ino was congratulated. And though I'd somewhat expected it, Suzume-sensei announced I had a very well-tied obi as well. I wasn't sure why she didn't mention that Ino had been the one to tie it—because while we'd attempted discretion by standing behind a couple desks and pretending we were rummaging through our backpacks, I doubted we'd fooled most of our classmates, much less our teacher. Strangely enough, no one had helped their friend, and even stranger, Ino hadn't offered to help Miyako. Perhaps Suzume-sensei was hinting that working together wasn't breaking the rules, and perhaps Ino was only networking, and she didn't actually like Miyako. Perhaps I was merely reading into Ino's minute facial expressions too much, or perhaps it was just because _I_ didn't like Miyako's continuous complaints about how she always spent, like, _hours_ when she was trying to make a really nice design on her nails, and _that_ was why her nails were oh-so- _gorgeous_.

Class was dismissed, and I walked home after quick farewells to both Ino and Miyako. I entered the quiet house, trooped to my room, and tossed my backpack onto the floor before _there_ —

 _Now_ I could finally say that my first day at the Academy had been…well, not necessarily uneventful, but definitely memorable. I smiled to myself and went outside to train with Sasuke.

* * *

 **…Come at me, bro. Throw all the questions/doubts you have about my ideas and this story at me all you want. (Of course, if you'd like to be nice about it, I would greatly appreciate it.) I'll provide you with as many explanations as I can, provided that you use your account when reviewing.**

 **But if you have no problems, then please review disregarding what I just said. Thanks!**

 **~Wobble Knife**


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